


Worth a Shot

by autisticblueteam



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Autistic Character, Autistic Character(s), F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7977010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticblueteam/pseuds/autisticblueteam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A harmless teasing comment from Washington makes Carolina suddenly question what exactly her feelings towards General Kimball really are, and honestly? She’s not sure that she’s ready to confront the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth a Shot

**Author's Note:**

> So the start of this fic has been sitting as a WIP in my folders for a while, because I moved onto another fic and forgot to go back to it. Hence why I don’t do that anymore. But it did, at least, mean that I got to plan out something a lot more fleshed-out than my original plan. Since I, y’know, forgot it all. And since it’s Sapphic September this was the perfect time to finally work on it!
> 
> (This is set basically right after Three’s Company, so there are some background hints of Tuckboosington)

“Carolina, sorry to interrupt, have you got a minute?”

Three swift kicks broke through Wash’s rapid chain of punches with ease, connecting with all of his main points of weakness and sending him tumbling to the floor. He landed with a thud and a grunt, sounds followed by the soft click of a helmet mechanism unlocking.

“Take five,” Carolina said, tucking her helmet under her arm. Wash groaned, holding a fist up by his head and flicking his index finger up. Satisfied with the response, Carolina jogged over to where Kimball was stood at the edge of the training zone, well out of the way of the sparring match that had just been taking place, “Yes Kimball?”

Wash pushed himself up to his feet, unsealing his own helmet and grabbing a water bottle. He glanced over at the two women as he took a swig; Kimball was showing Carolina something on her data pad−probably plans for upcoming missions−whilst Carolina gave her input, pointing at the screen and making vague hand gestures. She was also standing very, very close to the general, their shoulders almost touching. And looking at Kimball when she wasn’t looking at her.

The conversation seemed to end as Carolina rested a hand on Kimball’s shoulder, their tones now too hushed for Wash to even gather an idea of what they were saying, and then stepped back and gestured vaguely over at Wash. It was then Wash quickly looked away, taking another large swig of his drink and nearly choking himself in the process.

“Sorry about that,” Carolina said as she approached, a brow raised as he spluttered, “Kimball just wanted to ask about some troop assignments for one of the upcoming assaults. I volunteered you as back-up sniper if it turns out the kid they have listed isn’t a good enough shot.”

“Oh, okay,” Wash said, clearing his throat and screwing the cap onto his drink. He tossed Carolina her own water, for which he got a quick thanks before she started to drink. He waited until she had the bottle to her lips, then, “So. You and Kimball.”

Carolina didn’t react at first, taking a gulp of water and then screwing it shut. When she realised Wash wasn’t going to say anything more, however, she sighed and took the bait.

“What about me and Kimball?”

“Carolina, you couldn’t have been any closer to her a moment ago if you’d been hugging her. Not to mention you’ve been dropping pick-up lines around her for weeks now,” Wash replied, with a tone that suggested that he was stating the most obvious thing in the world. Carolina opened her mouth, ready to protest, but Wash continued, “And don’t even try to deny it, boss. Don’t forget I was being subjected to pick-up lines daily not long ago,” He paused, “Well, I still am now, actually… _anyway_ , that’s not the point. I know pick-up lines, and more importantly I know _your_ taste in pick-up lines.”

Carolina just looked at him.

“Look, you made a _lot_ of suggestive puns back on the MOI.”

With another swig of water she pulled her helmet back on, keeping up an air of composure, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Wash. I have _not_ been flirting with General Kimball.”

“I never actually said you were flirting,” Wash pointed out, pulling his own helmet back on. Carolina looked at him for a long time, forgetting for a moment that her expression was now hidden behind her visor, “…Are you glaring at me?”

“It was _implied_ , don’t get pedantic with me Washington,” She turned and stood in that stance she did, the one with her arms folded and her head tilted, that she knew would get across the look she was giving, “Come on. Training.”

“You know, that’s also the first time you’ve called her ‘general’ in normal conversation recently,” Wash added as he walked over, getting into stance just in time for Carolina to swing a kick, “Whoa!”

“Training, Wash.”

“Oh this so isn’t fair,” Wash huffed, and they were soon in a familiar sparring routine, “You were in on Tucker and Caboose’s antics the whole time, and I can’t even point one thing out?”

“I was in on Tucker and Caboose’s antics because Tucker doesn’t know how to keep his _mouth_ _shut_.”

Wash paused, then sighed, “Fair point.”

And then Carolina’s next kick connected with the front of his helmet; he stumbled back onto the floor, and that conversation was abandoned in favour of laughing followed by retaliation. And Carolina ignoring the blush that now warmed her cheeks.

* * *

As much as Carolina would like to say that she didn’t let Wash’s teasing get under her skin, and as much as she’d like to say that it had no basis− well, she’d be lying.

She slammed her locker closed, earning herself an admonishment from her resident AI companion, and dropped onto the bench with a heaving sigh. She somehow managed to make the action of tying her shoelaces look _angry_ , which only got worse the more distracted she got. She gave up with a huff and a deep breath, resting her head in her hands. She could feel the warmth of her cheeks under her palms, which only served to frustrate her more and make her more flushed.

“ _Uh, hey C? You okay?_ ”

Really there wasn’t any denying how attractive the general was. Carolina wasn’t the kind of person to shy away from her feelings of physical attraction; she wasn’t going to pretend that she didn’t find Kimball… beautiful, or alluring, or whatever the words were that best described her. But that wasn’t anything _unusual_ −she’d heard the gossip around the base, she knew that she’d be far from the only one who found the general to be attractive. That was all it was, so it was fine. It didn’t _mean_ anything.

“ _Ceeeee? Hello? You still in there?_ ” Fingers clicked in front of her face, Epsilon going so far as to actually project the sound, and she looked up, “ _C you totally spaced out on me there. I asked if you were okay._ ”

“I’m fine,” She said, poking him in the head. He made his helmet disappear just so he could glare at her, which made her laugh at least, “I’m _fine_ , Epsilon. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“ _You sure?_ ”

She smirked, “Well, unless you want to hear about how it’s been a while and−”

“ _Okay okay I believe you!_ _Geez!_ ”

Carolina snorted, and then laughed. Epsilon practically pouted, using his connection to her to mimic the sensation of shoving her. She retaliated by poking him in the head again, and that was the end of that particular exchange.

It wasn’t, however, the end of her thoughts on the matter.

Not only did she start to notice the subtle pick-up lines she dropped into conversations with Kimball almost immediately, but before long it was like Wash’s harmless teasing had somehow made her hyperaware of everything Kimball did; everything Kimball said; everything _about_ Kimball as a person. And that wasn’t even an exaggeration.

She’d be standing around one of their planning tables during a meeting and find herself zoning out as she listened to the sound of Kimball’s voice more than the actual words she was saying, admiring it, and have to be filled in by Epsilon on what was just said when she was inevitably asked for her input. Or she’d be having a one-on-one talk with her about some new intel they’d just gotten in and find herself distracted by the sight of Kimball’s mismatched eyes, going from making no eye contact at all−something Kimball graciously understood−to flat out staring into her eyes in seconds. God help her when they were training in one of the gyms together, out of armour and with Kimball’s figure and muscles on show; not to even mention the fact that sparring out of armour was such an intimate activity, your bodies almost constantly touching in one way or another.

But even then, she could try justify this much to herself. Kimball was attractive, it was still no big secret. No, the problems began when she realised that it wasn’t just her physicality she was paying attention to.

There was the way Kimball could often be found sitting with young, homesick soldiers and coaxing them to get up and go back to their squadmates. Or the way she’d speak up so passionately about the needs of the people she represented, and wouldn’t back down when the Feds were being unreasonable. Or the time she jumped between Lieutenant Palomo and an angry Fed soldier−the stray bullet that fired when she pushed the gun away luckily coming to a halt in her chest plate, leaving only a bruise instead of a bullet hole. Or just the way she bantered with the Captains; the way she’d joke with Tucker, or sit and listen to Caboose, or let Grif sneak a little extra food after a particularly rough day, or give Simmons extra jobs to do so he felt like he was doing something.

Kimball was just all around a _good person_.

A good person who, as Carolina was quickly gathering, really didn’t take as much care of herself as she did other people.

On her way back from the makeshift training halls one evening, she heard coughing and the sound of armour hitting the walls up ahead. Frowning she quickened her pace, turning the next corner to see Kimball leaning against the wall and coughing, _hard_. She raised a foot, apparently trying to take a step forward, but the second her arm moved from the wall she began to fall and−

“Whoa there,” Carolina held her up by her shoulders, and Kimball grabbed onto her upper arm, “Kimball? What’s wrong?”

Kimball opened her mouth to speak but all that came was more coughing. Now much closer, Carolina could tell this wasn’t some normal cough, it was dry; wheezing; and painful sounding. It seemed like it took effort for Kimball to even raise her head, if the way her brow furrowed and her eyes clamped shut were anything to go by; she barely managed to gesture back towards the training halls and her chest before the coughing took over again. Carolina frowned, not knowing what exactly she meant, until she heard the tell-tale sound of explosions.

Explosives training. Fumes.

“Here, my helmet’s filtration system is still working,” She said, quickly unsealing her helmet and placing it over Kimball’s head. It was a clumsy fit, the seals barely matched up, but it worked. Within a minute Kimball’s breathing had begun to even out, the coughing coming to a halt.

“T-Thank you,” She got out, after another minute, “I’m sorry, the fumes play havoc with my lungs.”

She tried to take a step forward, but immediately all but collapsed onto Carolina. Carolina, now fighting the feeling of heat in her cheeks− _oh my god she was practically hugging the woman_ −carefully adjusted her hold and supported Kimball on her way down to the ground. Kimball seemed to finally give up, then, slumping against the wall with a sigh.

“Are you okay?” Carolina asked, cursing herself silently. Right, that was a silly question.

“I’ll be fine,” Kimball said, sighing. The sound was as rough as her coughs, and her breathing wasn’t much better. She took off the helmet, despite Carolina’s insistence she didn’t, and handed it back, “I’m used to it. I’ll have to get one of the Feds−’ She sneered, ‘−armour mechanics to check my helmet filters.”

Carolina raised a brow, dropping to sit next to her, “ _Used_ to it?”

“Used to it,” Kimball repeated, mimicking the raised brow, “You sure you want to ask? It’s not a fun story.”

“I’ve probably heard worse,” Carolina said with a shrug and a smile that she hoped came across as reassuring, but probably managed to come across cocky knowing her luck.

Kimball chuckled, letting her head rest back against the wall, “Can’t argue with that. How much do you know about the war here on Chorus, Carolina?”

“Mostly the official details. Whilst both sides agree the war started to pick up pace around 13 years ago the war kicked off, officially, about 10 years ago, after a series of ‘terrorist attacks’, and so on,” Carolina said, vaguely gesturing along with her words. She caught Kimball’s lips twitch into a slight smirk out of the corner of her eye.

“What if I told you I was part of one of those ‘terrorist attacks’?” She said, chuckling under her breath as Carolina’s eyes widened slightly. She coughed, having to wave Carolina back, and continued, “I was about 18 when it happened. I’d been working at my factory since I was 16, in terrible conditions not suited for humans to work in; they−the Feds−wanted to ramp up production of munitions in anticipation of a declaration of war from the Rebels. The Rebels, through workers like me, got word of this. So, they orchestrated an attack.”

Carolina watched her face as she spoke, but this time she listened intently; she could see a spark of pride in Kimball’s eyes, the same spark she saw when the woman made her impassioned speeches about her cause.

“My factory _just so happened_ to be within range of one of the Rebels’ supply caches within a very, very sympathetic district. More than 75% of the factory’s workforce was, if not a member of the New Republic officially, a sympathiser. I was part of one of the teams who smuggled in active explosive agents, set off at calculated positions around the plant to destroy as much federal property without hurting anyone,” Kimball continued, glancing at Carolina, “The attacks were designed specifically to avoid casualties. The Feds like to omit that.”

Carolina nodded. She understood that. She wasn’t a stranger to people lying to make things fit their narrative.

“So, the coughing? From the factory?” She asked. Kimball nodded.

“As I said, the conditions were terrible. The exposure to the chemicals alone means that to this day I suffer from anaemia, alongside bouts of nausea; constant headaches; periods of dizziness; trouble breathing,” She said, listing off all of the symptoms on her fingers, “Exposure to the components make it all flare up at once. And I haven’t had access to iron supplements in weeks now. So I suppose everything just came together at the wrong moment.”

“I’m sorry,” She didn’t really know what else to say to that, swallowing, “Not to sound… ungrateful, but why are you so comfortable telling me this?”

Kimball smiled, “I trust you, Agent Carolina.”

Carolina’s heart skipped a beat.

“You and your team… Without the Captains and the others… I don’t know where we’d be right now. Well, I do. But I’d rather not think about it,” Kimball continued after a moment, “You have been nothing but a help to us since you arrived, and I believe you will not betray that trust.”

Carolina bit her lip and resisted the urge to ask how, after what had happened with the mercenaries, she was still so open to trusting people. When, even after all these years, Carolina still couldn’t bring herself to truly trust anyone. She resisted because Kimball wasn’t _her_ , and Kimball’s faith was part of what made her _Kimball_. Part of what made Carolina like her.

“How are you feeling?” She said instead, “Do you think you can get up?”

“Well my head is still spinning and I feel like I could throw up at any moment, so unfortunately I don’t think so,” Kimball sighed, “You can go on your way. I’ll take myself to medical after I can move.”

“Or I could wait with you, and we could talk, and then _I_ can take you to medical when you can move,” Carolina said. When Kimball opened her mouth, Carolina gave her a look, “I have nowhere else to be. I’d much rather sit here and talk to you for a while until you feel better.”

Shit. How did that come across? She had no idea how that would come across.

“Well… Alright,” The ‘as long as you’re sure’ was implied, “What would you like to talk about, Carolina? What does an ex-freelancer have in the way of conversation?”

“Stories,” Carolina said with a shrug, a smile tugging at her lips. Her feet began to tap against the floor, “Specifically stories about our mutual friends.”

“Oh really now?” Kimball’s tone was amused, “Even about your fellow agent? You know, before recent events I’d never seen Washington quite so… non-serious.”

Carolina grinned, “Oh I have.”

“…Go on.”

“Oh where to begin,” Carolina said, rolling her eyes dramatically, “Well, there _was_ that time he got a grappling hook to the crotch.”

Kimball burst out laughing, this wonderful, joyful sound that filled the hallway with echoes of it and that made Carolina stop dead. Her cheeks flushed. She could practically hear her heart in her ears. Oh. _Oh._

Oh no.

It would be almost half an hour before Kimball was settled enough to get to her feet, and for Carolina to be able to escort her to the medical bay and the attention of Doctor Grey. Kimball didn’t look entirely pleased by the situation−well, if the way she playfully mouthed ‘don’t leave me’ at Carolina was anything to go by−but when Carolina left she was at least confident that the general was in good hands. And wondering why she wasn’t in _her_ hands but−

Fuck.

Goddammit, Washington.

She made her way back to her quarters, the night already drawing in. For the most part everything was quiet, but she could hear the closing period of the day’s training even from here, and there were vague noises from inside some of the others’ rooms. She tried, and failed, to muffle a laugh when she heard what could only be described as the sounds of chaos from within Washington’s room after passing two very empty rooms belonging to Tucker and Caboose. Epsilon’s commentary on what he figured was going on inside didn’t exactly help. Though at least it was all distracting her from… other thoughts.

Not that it lasted very long, because by the time she made it to her room her mind had taken her thoughts of Kimball and ran with them. Collapsing onto the bed with her face buried in her pillow she groaned, feeling her face flare up red. It wasn’t that she was having _sexual_ thoughts, no, that she could handle. That was nothing new. But this? This she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

And goddamn she was determined to suppress it.

God _dammit_ , Washington.

With a deep breath she buried her face in the pillow. It’s fine. She’s fine. She can ignore this. She can ignore this.

She groaned, biting the pillow when she attempted to bite down on her lip. She began frantically tapping against the metal post of the bed to avoid scratching. _Goddammit._

Carolina would like to say that she tried to sleep, but it’d be a lie. She lay there, breathing in the hot air trapped by her face in her pillow and without any indication of what time it was, until being stuck just trying to push away her own thoughts was too much to bear. She groaned, shoving herself up off the bed with a huff and walking out of the room with barely a glance at the clock. 3:04am, she thought it said.

So, by all logic, everyone bar the night guards should be in bed. Carolina should have been free to roam the base uninterrupted, maybe even go down to the nearest gym and work out some frustration on the punching bags. But logic rarely applied to Carolina Church’s life, something she should have learned long ago. And so when she passed by the row of offices she found Kimball, wide awake and working.

And of course Kimball noticed her.

“Oh, Carolina,” She said, twisting her body to look back at her. She was in civvies, a tank top the same light blue as her armour stripes and an old pair of sweats. With the way she was turning the tank exposed a strip of skin on her side, and Carolina caught a glimpse of inked skin, “You’re up late.”

“I could say the same about you,” Carolina replied without really thinking about it. Already too late to really back down, she stepped into the doorframe and leant against it, “You were feeling terrible earlier, shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I tried. Unfortunately it didn’t work,” Kimball said, shrugging, “No use wasting the time. I wasn’t able to finish work I had been planning to whilst I was with you and in med bay.”

Carolina bit her lip. She couldn’t really say anything, after all; working late was practically her MO, a fact that everyone was well aware of.

“Speaking of which, I could actually use your help with some of these reports,” She continued, turning back to her cabinets and grabbing a couple of paper files. Huh, paper files. Carolina sometimes forgot how little tech the New Republic had been able to access before now, “I’ve written up reports on some of the freelancer tech we’ve recovered. Would you be able to take a look? I figure that of all people you’re most likely to have input.”

“Sure,” Carolina said, as if she wasn’t scratching her arm and as if she wasn’t nervous. _Nervous_ , god. What was she, a middle schooler with her first crush on a girl again? Get it together, Carolina.

Kimball held out the file so that it hovered above the desk, instead of extending her arm fully to where−with how small the office she’d been assigned was−Carolina could have reached it from where she stood. Carolina swallowed, pushing herself up from the doorframe and walking to the side of the desk, taking hold of the file.

Their hands brushed, and Carolina tugged the file away.

Apparently unfazed by the odd reaction, Kimball returned to rifling through her files. Carolina, willing away the warmth in her cheeks and trying to ignore the tingling feeling in her hand−christ, she really was behaving like a middle schooler with a crush−hopped up to sit on the edge of the desk. For a few moments the only sound was that of pages turning, and the dull thrum of the complex’s ventilation.

“Thank you, by the way,” Kimball said after a moment. Carolina looked up, met Kimball’s eye and immediately diverted her attention to her cheeks; huh, she had freckles. “For earlier.”

“Oh,” All words failed her. What did she say? “It’s fine. Anyone would have done the same.”

Kimball glanced back over her shoulder with a soft smile, “Not anyone. Most people wouldn’t stand up to me when I told them to go. _You_ , however, did.”

“Sometimes you have to stand your ground to do what’s best for someone you care about,” Carolina said, her heart beating mile a minute. She was tapping repetitively against the back of the file; it made a satisfying sound.

“I suppose you do,” Kimball said, turning around. She placed her files on the desk, but didn’t sit down; instead she stood in front of Carolina, close enough to make the other woman’s heart quicken but not so close as to be invasive, “It was also just nice to get a chance to talk to you.”

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap− “We talk almost every day.”

“Yes, but only about work,” Kimball said, gently pushing the top of the file down. Carolina cursed internally, not having even realised she’d raised it to almost hide her from view, “It was nice to just _talk_. To get to know a little about you, that didn’t just come from Caboose’s stories and how competent you are as a fighter.”

Carolina swallowed, raised a brow to try and look more confident than she felt, “Caboose’s stories?”

“He has a lot to say,” She shrugged, the corners of her lips twitching, “But it was nice to learn about you from _you_. You’re a very impressive woman in the field, Carolina, but there’s more to you than that and I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to show me.”

“An impressive woman in the field, huh?” She ignored the way her breath caught. She ignored the way she’d let the file drop to her lap. She pretended, instead, that she was sure of herself.

“Mmhm,” The file disappeared from Carolina’s lap, and she didn’t care enough to see where it was put, “And out of it, in different ways.”

“You’re rather an impressive woman yourself,” Carolina said, shocking herself. She didn’t realise her knees had been pushed apart until Kimball was stood between them, touching the edge of the desk and close enough that she could almost feel Kimball’s breath. _Oh,_ “I, uh. I have to go. To a meeting.”

Kimball tilted her head, “A meeting.”

“Yes. I just… forgot. Energy supplements and my speed unit, it scrambles my head,” She pushed off the desk, Kimball graciously stepping back to let her, and walked towards the door.

She knew she couldn’t go back to her room, no, Kimball would see her head that direction and know. Washington had probably left the other two to go and work by now; his insomnia was as bad as ever. Maybe she could go find him, tell him what a damn mess his teasing had caused her and−

“A meeting at 3am.”

Carolina froze.

Shit.

Kimball met her at the doorway, and Carolina pressed herself back against the frame. With her arms folded loosely under her chest Kimball looked down at her. Two inches suddenly felt more like a foot. Carolina felt her teeth burst her lip before she was even aware she was chewing it.

“Yes,” Oh god, why was she still running with this? “Washington has odd work hours.”

“Really?” Kimball said, raising a brow, “Or is this something to do with the fact we were just flirting?”

_Shit._

Kimball stepped closer; her hand raised to cup the side of Carolina’s face, thumb brushing over her lip and freeing it from her teeth. Slowly, giving Carolina time to pull away, it slipped to encircle the back of her skull and tilt her head upwards. But Carolina didn’t pull away, even as her heart pounded in her chest. When Kimball leant in, she mimicked her, and their lips met in the middle.

She was out of practice. Her response to the kiss was clumsy, so much so that the two parted briefly with breathless laughs before their lips met again, the younger woman guiding Carolina until she had the hang of it again. But Kimball remained in control; Carolina gave it willingly, letting herself be pressed against the doorframe and kissed with fervour. Her arms encircled Kimball’s neck; her fingers combed through her multitudes of braids to cup the back of her head; she pulled herself closer to her.

Her nerves were alight. Her lips tingled. Her body filled with a pleasant warmth.

Kimball’s lips were soft; the grip of her hand on her hip firm but gentle; the pressure of her body against hers pleasant and grounding. Even with the sharp feeling of the doorframe in her back, and the clumsy start, this was better than any romanticised scenario Carolina could have dreamt up. This was real.

And when they pulled apart, she took just a moment to savour the feeling. Kimball’s forehead rested against hers. Breaths tickling her lips. A thumb stroking her jaw.

But only a moment.

“I’m sorry, I− Sorry,” She said, voice barely above a whisper, before pushing Kimball back and sprinting off into the base. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t−

* * *

Carolina spent the next two days avoiding Kimball.

Well, it wasn’t just Kimball. Anyone who interacted with Kimball on a daily basis was afforded the same treatment, no matter how difficult it was to stay away from every member of the Reds and Blues or to hide from Wash, who knew her much too well. Retreating to maintenance rooms or tunnels was out of the question with Washington around, so when she wasn’t locking herself in a training hall or in her bunk she wandered the city.

Inadvisable from a tactical standpoint, maybe, but it was quiet and empty and she just wanted to be alone.

Even if that meant being alone with her thoughts.

It had been years since she’d felt the way she was feeling now. Years since the days when things were simple; since butterflies in her stomach; since walking through the city, holding hands after school; since she’d pressed her to the back wall of the bike shed and kissed her, like some cliché movie. It had been less time since things changed; since running around a new city with him, exploring and rebelling; since she struggled to ask him out for the first time; since she let herself indulge, despite being in the midst of war; since things turned complicated.

But it had been barely two years since she started to _process_ it all, to accept the way that things grew and twisted and to put the past behind her. Sure, she was making progress, but she wasn’t quite there yet. Kimball didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve to deal with Carolina’s complicated emotions. She deserved better than that.

So Carolina did what she always did, she ignored it.

Well, she tried to. Epsilon had other ideas.

“ _Carolina, this is getting ridiculous_ ,” He said, flickering into life next to her head as she walked back into her room. It was late, and she’d only just gotten back from walking around the city, “ _You_ cannot _keep avoiding everyone._ ”

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” Carolina grunted, unsealing her helmet and tossing it onto her bed. She had her upper body stripped of armour in no time, fingers finding and releasing clasps with practiced ease, “Wanting to spend time alone doesn’t mean I’m _avoiding_ anyone.”

Epsilon reappeared stood on her helmet, arms folded and no helmet projected so that he could give her a look, “Carolina, _that is absolute bullshit. You know it and I know it._ ”

Silently she moved onto her lower body, stacking each piece of armour nearly at the foot of her bed. She’d much prefer it to be in its proper storage, but their requests for armour lockers in their rooms had yet to be granted and the locker room meant people. So for now it’d have to do.

“ _Carolina don’t ignore me._ ”

“I’m not,” She stripped off her undersuit, folding it neatly, and grabbed her civvies from the bed. Pulling her shirt over her head and tugging her sweats up her hips she was able to avoid the look that Epsilon continued to give her, at least until she dropped to sit on the bed.

“ _Carolina._ ”

“Epsilon.”

There was a colossal sigh, and Epsilon could be seen with his hands clasped in front of his face, “Carolina _. This is absolutely_ fucking _ridiculous. I’m not letting this continue. Go talk to the general._ ”

“What was that?”

“ _I am literally in your head, don’t you even think about pretending you didn’t hear me. Go and talk to the fucking general._ ”

Carolina sighed, tapping against her leg, “Epsilon.”

“ _I swear to god sis I will send her a communication and bring her here_ ,” Epsilon disappeared and her communicator lit up where it sat untouched, followed momentarily by the AI reappearing above it, “ _I’m typing it up right now._ ”

“Epsilon.”

“ _I am literally one click away from sending this._ ”

“ _Epsilon_ ,” Carolina said, groaning and dropping her head into her hands. She felt her teeth start to tug at her lip, groaned, and then grabbed for her tank chew, “I don’t need to talk to Kimball. There’s nothing to talk _about_.”

She popped the chew into her mouth and bit down _hard_. She could feel Epsilon’s eyes on her. She wasn’t fooling him, she knew that. As he said, he was in her head. She couldn’t hide everything from him. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try.

“ _Sis, I_ will _send this. I will. You have to talk to her! You can’t just_ flirt _with the woman,_ kiss her back _, and then_ run off _because you want to pretend that you don’t have feelings for her!_ ” Epsilon was gesticulating wildly, and his voice was reaching that distinct pitch that only came out when he was truly riled up.

Carolina was getting a little riled up herself, now, “I do _not_ have feelings for her!”

“ _You’ve spent the past two days moping because you have so many feelings for her, C! For fuck’s sake you cannot keep being in denial−_ ”

“Yes I can!”

“ _Oh so you admit you’re in denial?_ ”

“That’s not− That’s−” She huffed, fists clenching around her thumbs and squeezing tight, “ _I do not have feelings for Kimball!_ ”

“Oh really? Well, that’s a little disappointing.”

Carolina froze.

She hadn’t closed the door.

“ _And I am outta here._ ”

Epsilon’s disappearance went with barely a nod of acknowledgement. Carolina’s focus was on Kimball, stood there leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded. Kimball’s focus was on her, her face… soft, not annoyed in any way, not even confused. She gestured vaguely towards the bed, and Carolina shuffled over to give her room.

The bed dipped as Kimball took a seat, “So.”

“So…” Carolina said, eyes on the floor, “Kimball, I’m− I was just− I didn’t mean to−”

A curse slipped out and she buried her face into her hands. Her words always got _stuck_ when she was put on the spot like this. Usually she was fine, she chose her words carefully, she kept things simple; but when emotions came into play, when she didn’t have time to think, she started to mess up and−

She jumped. A hand rested on her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Kimball said. She didn’t bend to try and look Carolina in the eye. She didn’t try and make her look at her at all. So, Carolina managed it on her own; she let her hands drop and sat up, “I was alarmed and a little hurt, at first, but I took a little time to think and talked to Wash and I understand why you ran off.”

Carolina shocked herself with her humourless laugh, “ _I_ don’t even really understand why I ran off.”

“I think you do. You’re nervous.”

“I’m− I’m not _nervous_ ,” Carolina said, brow furrowing. Tap, tap, tap, “I’m just…” What was she? How was she even feeling? She didn’t know how to describe this, “…I don’t know.”

“Well, how about I start?” One of Kimball’s hands rested over hers, the touch light and hesitant; it was only when Carolina turned her hand over to take Kimball’s into hers that the hold tightened, and she took the other hand too, “I’m nervous, too. We’re in the middle of a war. Both of us have been fighting for, well, the majority of our adult lives. Relationships are complex even at the best of times, and I’m under no illusion that any part of this situation is easy.”

“Relationship,” She tested the feel of the word, wondered when the last time she used it in this context was, “Is that what you want?”

Kimball squeezed her hands, “Is that what _you_ want?”

“I…” She thought back to the way the kiss felt. She thought back to her and Kimball, just talking. She thought of how understanding Kimball was, how good a person she was, “I think so. It’s just that… If things get… _complicated_ −” again, if they get complicated _again_ “−then…” Then she didn’t know what she’d do. She didn’t know if she could lose someone again.

“Things are already complicated. But that doesn’t mean that they’re bad,” Kimball said. She stroked the back of Carolina’s hands with her thumb, rubbing soft circles, “We’re in the middle of a war. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, or how long we’ll survive, but that doesn’t make a relationship not worth it.”

Carolina looked down, “You barely know me…”

“I know enough. And there’s time to know more, when you’re comfortable. Carolina, I like you very much so and I wasn’t lying when I said I trusted you.”

“I do… Enjoy your company,” She couldn’t make herself say more, but Kimball seemed to understand what she wanted to say nevertheless. That made her smile a little, “I… so… you picked up on the flirting, huh?”

Kimball chuckled, “I did. You have quite the gift for pick-up lines, Agent Carolina. If it hadn’t been for the recent overabundance of them caused by our mutual friends, then I doubt I would have noticed for a long time yet. I may, however, have become slightly impatient and been a little hasty when we were in my office, and for that I’m sorry.”

“I returned it all,” Carolina said, shaking her head. She squeezed Kimball’s hands lightly, looking at them instead of her face, “I kissed back. Well, I tried.”

That earned a laugh, and Carolina’s heart quickened.

“You caught on quickly enough,” Kimball said, smiling at her. One of Carolina’s hands dropped back to her lap, and Kimball’s fingers brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her cheeks warmed, “Maybe you just need a little more practice.”

“Oh and I suppose you’ve had plenty of that yourself,” Carolina said, chuckling under her breath. She frowned, slightly, when Kimball’s expression changed.

“A little,” She said, nodding her head from side to side, “But, unfortunately, this is a war zone.”

Carolina’s eyes widened.

“Oh. Oh Vanessa, I’m sorry, I’ve− I’ve been told I can be a little thoughtless I didn’t mean− I didn’t know−” She cursed, but Kimball stopped her with a shake of her head and a hand cupping her face.

“It’s alright, you didn’t know. You’re not the only one with things you’ve yet to share,” Her thumb brushed over Carolina’s cheek, and she leant into the touch, “There’s more important things to talk about, now.”

“Mm, like kissing practice?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Carolina’s lips, and Kimball met it with an amused smile of her own.

“Well don’t you have your priorities in order?” She said, her hand slipping to cup the back of Carolina’s neck like it had the night before. Carolina let herself be guided closer, laughed softly when they both tilted their head the wrong way, and let out the tension in her body when their lips met.

Her arms wrapped around her neck, tugging Kimball closer so she had to lean her weight onto her free hand. She started off less clumsy, this time; the kiss was sweet and simple, though far from lacking passion. It was when the movements of their lips grew a little more eager, when they began to part for breathless laugh as their noses knocked or someone’s teeth caught at the other’s lip, that she got a little less sure of herself. But Kimball was patient, even if Carolina was less so. Her hand laced into her hair, pulling Kimball closer. Kimball’s hand drifted from her neck down to her waist, and she knelt on the bed, stretching to press closer−

−And then her knee slipped, and she fell, and the two women were sent tumbling back against the mattress.

There was a moment of silence, their eyes meeting, and then Carolina started to laugh. Her face was flushed red, and her hands began to flap in a way she hadn’t let them do in years. Kimball’s face softened at the sight, and she leant down and kissed her again through smiles and laughs and clumsy knocks of noses and Carolina’s happy stimming.

This was worth a shot.

* * *

Carolina found herself spending a lot of time with Kimball, over the next few days. Kimball never did go back to her room that first night, and the two spent the evening just telling stories; sharing lazy kisses; and generally basking in the brief escape from everything else they had to deal with. But both women wanted to make this work, so more serious conversations came later, conversations about how things would work, about their boundaries. About how public they could afford to be.

And, whilst they decided that the answer to that particular question was ‘not very’, it would be a lie to say that there weren’t shared glances, or touches that lingered a little too long, in the days that followed.

So, Carolina couldn’t say she was surprised when during training, with the smuggest smile on his face, Wash said:

“So. You and Kimball.”

“Quit whilst you’re ahead, Wash.”


End file.
